


bad end

by brightclam



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Ra centric, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, a what if the end of season 1 actually was The End, cause fuck her, don't worry annie gets killed off, major character death is dizzee sorry, so it's rly fucking sad sry, what would happen w/ the characters?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-01-27 14:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12583740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightclam/pseuds/brightclam
Summary: What if Dizzee did die, Boo stayed in jail, Zeke went to college, and Shao returned to Fat Annie? What would happen to the characters left behind?





	1. news

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know this story is. It's a mixture of my anger at the get down being cancelled, my wondering how characters that rarely interacted (like thor and ra) would get along, and practice writing realistic greif.
> 
> I should mention that this story has more disscusion of race than my previous get down fics, and I am white. I've tried to use accounts from poc to get the description right, but if I've written something racist or incorrect please let me know. I will fix it or take the fic down.
> 
> tw for this chapter:  
> I headcanon thor was abused as a teen because of his sexuality. That gets triggered and he has a breakdown, but there's no flashbacks or anything. Major character death of course. slight homophobia. some suicidal thinking by Thor.

\-------

Ra had hoped to go to college. He'd dreamed of maybe going into literature, or trying to become a scriptwriter. He’d wanted to make movies as explosive and colorful as his comic books. But with his brothers gone, he hadn't felt right leaving home. Mom and Dad were crushed, their grief at losing two sons a physical weight.

 

Boo had gone to jail. He'd been sentenced as a full adult, even though anyone could tell you his sixteen years didn't make him any less a child. He was young and he was vulnerable. He made a mistake. They'd tried to fight it, but all the lawyers were in Annie's pocket and all the judge could see was his skin.

 

They visit him as often as possible, but glancing at his drawn face through a dirty window and hearing his exhausted voice through a tinny phone is never enough.

 

Dizzee just disappeared. They searched for him, put up signs and asked all his bomber friends, but they found nothing.

 

Zeke sends Ra letters every so often. He’s struggling, trying to keep himself afloat. He has to work twice as hard as the white students to get the same grade and even then, the teachers still see him as less intelligent. He’s still getting good grades because he’s Zeke, who’s always been too smart for them, who can spin words out of air so fast they’ll cut you. But he’s also exhausted, close to breaking from working too hard. He’s managing, but he’s certainly not happy.

 

Yolanda is in California, being devoured by Hollywood fame. Ra is helping in the salon, taking community college classes on the side. As the only Kipling child left, he’ll probably end up taking over the family business.

 

He's okay with it. He's not going to let his family legacy die, even if it means he can't follow his own dreams.

 

It's late one night and he's working downstairs, his papers spread out on the floor around him. He'd meant to go up to his room but had gotten too focused and forgotten.

 

He hears a knock on the door and yells up the stairs to his parents that he’ll get it. He pulls it open to find a white boy fidgeting on their front step. He can't imagine why a white boy would be here at this hour of the night, but then he takes in the paint splatters on his clothes. A bomber, like Dizzee’s friends.

 

That sends a surge of hope through him and he looks closer at the man. He’s vaguely familiar…

 

“You’re Thor, right? The friend Dizzee brought to our shows.”

 

Thor shifts uneasily, mutters:

 

“No... yes... I mean...there's a lot about Dizzee you didn't know.”

 

The past tense sends a sliver of ice down Ra’s spine. His voice turns hostile, cold and brittle, like he’ll break if spoken to wrong. He doesn't want to be cruel but the worry sets him on edge.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

Thor licks his lips, his eyes darting around as if he can't look Ra in the eye.

 

“I'm sorry it's so late, they only just released me, I would have tried to come at a better time but you need to hear this. I didn't want to wait.”

 

Ra feels like the world is spinning. His legs are weak and he’s worried he'll collapse. He latches onto the doorframe for support.

 

“Released?”

 

Thor gives him a sad look, his eyes wet like he's about to cry.

 

“From jail. They caught us bombing two months ago.”

 

The dread, the feeling of impending doom, has turned Ra into a parrot. He echoes:

 

“Us?”

 

But he already knows. Thor looks down, the street light catching on the tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

 

“Dizz is dead.”

 

It all comes crashing down on him, the weeks of waiting, the grief and hope and despair. He stumbles, almost falling forwards. Thor catches him, steadies him. Ra’s body seems to have stopped working, he's too weak to support himself. He sags against Thor’s chest and gasps:

 

“How?”

 

“We ran. They caught me, but he got through the fence. He was desperate, he ran into the tunnel. There was a train.”

 

Ra struggles to breath. Somehow it's so Dizzee. So much him, to resist to the end, to never give up. He'd always burned too brightly for their dim little world. 

 

Still, it can't be true. He can't be gone.

 

“He could have escaped. A different tunnel, the tracks…”

 

Thor shakes his head, cheeks wet and glimmering.

 

“No. We checked. I saw his remains.”

 

The truth of it sinks into Ra’s bones, brought by this strange messenger who speaks like he loved Dizzee as much as Ra had.

 

Ra screams, he can’t help it. It’s half a howl and half a whine, an agonized noise tearing out of his throat. It echoes around the street, bouncing off the dark windows. He’s probably woken up some of the neighbors. He doesn’t think he can stand it if they come out and yell at him.

 

Fortunately, Thor doesn’t seem disturbed by his screaming. He stands, silent, as the echoes fade. Then, slowly, he extends his arm, giving Ra time to pull away if he wants. Ra takes the offer of comfort and falls into the sideways half hug. Usually he’s not one for contact with strangers, but Thor seems different.

 

Different from Crash and Daze and the other bombers, who respected Dizzee but still thought he was weird, an outsider. Dizzee had brought Thor to shows, and Thor’s first thought upon getting out was to come tell them what had happened to Dizzee. He seems to have wholeheartedly loved Dizzee, and Ra knows Dizzee loved him back.

 

Ra pulls away, wiping at his eyes. He takes a deep breath to steady himself.

 

“Thank you for coming to tell us, Thor. We haven’t known what happened to him ever since he disappeared.”

 

Ra turns away, ready to go back inside, already thinking about how he’s going to break his parent’s hearts. Before he can, Thor clears his throat and speaks again:

 

“If it’s alright, I’d like to come inside and speak to your parents. I need to tell them something about him, something important.”

 

Ra weighs what could be so important, but Thor seems to be honestly concerned.

 

“Alright. But can you wait downstairs until I tell them what’s happened?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Ra leaves Thor in the salon and heads upstairs, feeling like the executioner about to put his parents on the chopping block.

 

As he pushes open the door to their room, it creaks as if he were a horror movie monster sneaking up on unsuspecting prey. It seems a fitting metaphor for the terrible news he carries.

 

Mom looks up as he comes in and smiles widely at him. Now that he's the only one within her reach, she's become very clingy, as if she's afraid he’ll be taken from her too. He winces at the thought of wiping that smile from her face.

 

She notices his flinch and her face falls, smile quickly replaced by fear.

 

“Ra, baby, what is it?”

 

Next to her, dad lifts up his cup of tea to take a drink. Ra can see his hand shaking, his lined face suddenly looking old and tired.

 

“One of Dizzee’s bomber friends. The one he hung around the most. He just got out of jail, came to speak with us.”

 

They're watching him so closely now, with a mixture of hope and terror. He drops his head, unable to keep eye contact. He hadn’t noticed, but he's fidgeting: picking at the unraveling edge of his shirt. He tries to force himself to stop; if he's not careful, he'll pull out the entire hem.

 

He’s stalling, his tongue gone dry and useless, sitting in his mouth like a wad of wet fabric. Pa sets the cup down with an impatient slam and whispers:

 

“Spit it out, son.”

 

“He says Dizz is dead. Hit by a train while they were bombing.”

 

There's a moment of silence, and then his mother shrieks. The long, wavering note tears through the house and he flinches, her agony as painfully fresh as his own.

 

Dad’s reaction is quieter, but no less painful to hear. He bows his head and sobs, each one an aching noise that sounds like it's being ripped out of him.

 

Ra wants to join them in their mourning, wants to throw the teacup against the wall to rid himself of some of he agonized energy inside of him. But he also knows that breaking things won’t make him feel any better. And slowly, with the realization, the urge to tear things apart changes. It levels out and becomes a whirlpool of grief, weighing down his shoulders and making him want to cry until there’s no tears left in his body.

 

Dad has wrapped an arm around mom, tears still running down his cheeks. She’s staring lifelessly at the wall, her eyes empty and glazed. 

 

Ra waits until they've calmed somewhat. They've moved on to comforting each other, clasping their hands together and holding on for support. Dad runs his other hand through her hair and she leans into the touch, still shocked into silence.

 

Ra speaks slowly and softly, trying not to startle them.

 

“The friend, he says he has something important to tell you. He's waiting downstairs. Should I bring him up?”

 

The tears in Adele’s eyes finally break free as she snarls:

 

“What could possibly be more important than telling us our son is dead?”

 

“I don't know. But I believe him. Dizz talked about him all the time, brought him to all the shows. He was Dizz’s best friend. If he says it’s important, then it is.”

 

Dad sighs, wipes at his cheeks. Mom pulls out her handkerchief and hands it to him to use instead.  The embroidered square of fabric is a tiny slice of normality in the storm their lives have become. They spend a moment breathing deeply and squaring their shoulders. Then mom nods at Ra.

 

“Go ahead and bring him up, baby.”

 

Ra makes his way downstairs on shaking legs and pauses before entering the salon. He can see Thor through the doorway, silhouetted in the dim orange light shining in through the front windows. He’s hunched over, head buried in his hands. He jumps up when Ra steps into the room.

 

Ra knows he heard mom scream and he can see the apology on his face. He cuts him off before he can say it.

 

“You can come up now.”

 

Raa doesn’t wait for his reply, just turns around and leads the way. He pushes open the door again and gestures for Thor to go ahead. He sees him hesitate, just slightly, before walking through. His heart sinks; what is Thor so nervous about?

 

As Ra pulls the door shut with a click, he can see Thor flinch slightly. That makes his heart fall even further.

 

Somehow, the way Thor strides into the room, the way he holds himself with both confidence and fear, reminds him of Shao. He carries himself the same way, as if he knows he’s about to be hurt but also knows he’s strong enough to bear it. It makes Ra uneasy, something aching inside of him at the thought of what could have trained him to think like that.

 

Of course, the way dad is glaring, Ra isn’t surprised Thor looks afraid.

 

His parents look at Thor expectantly. Thor doesn’t start talking. He looks down, fiddles with the fur lining of his coat. He reorients himself, stepping a couple steps back so he’s closer to the door. Then he plants his feet, as if he’s bracing against a strong wind. He balls his hands into fists at his side and stands up as straight as he can. Only then, once he’s turned himself into something that almost looks robotic, does he start to speak.

 

“Mr. and Mrs. Kipling, I don’t really know how to tell you this. Dizzee was hiding a lot from you.”

 

Dad sighs, grits his teeth in irritation at having his time wasted.

 

“We know about the graffiti and the drugs, son. You’d better have more to tell us than that.”

 

Thor looks down, long hair falling down to hide his face, and takes a deep breath. Ra tenses, feeling that he’s got something actually important to say, something that he might not be ready to hear.

 

“Dizzee was gay. I was his boyfriend. He didn’t want to tell you because he was afraid, but with him being gone, I think he would have wanted you to know.”

 

Dad’s eyes go wide and he snarls:

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, coming in here and saying shit like that? If you think you’re going to get something out of us by slandering our son—“

 

He lunges and Ra takes a step back. It’s not his I’m-going-to-beat you stance, just an intimidating one, but impressive nonetheless. Dad lunges so that they’ll be face to face, eye to eye. 

 

That is, they would be, if Thor hadn’t thrown himself backwards as soon as dad had moved. His back hits the door with a loud slam. Ra winces; that sounded like it hurt. He scrabbles at the wood around the door handle, as if he’s trying to get out but can’t focus enough to find the knob. He’s got an arm thrown over his face as if he expects dad to punch him there and Ra can see his chest heaving with his panicked breaths.

 

It seems like an overreaction, dad hadn’t even taken a swing at him. Dad tilts his head, a calculating look in his eye, and takes a large step forwards. It doesn’t bring him close enough to touch Thor, but it does make him loom. He’s taller than Thor by a bit, although Ra knows Thor’s ripped underneath his heavy coat. He’d be able to give as good as he got. But Thor doesn’t seem to realize that; when dad steps forwards his legs give out.

 

He collapses and Ra can see that his eyes are strangely glazed as he falls. He curls up against the door, arms over his head to protect himself. He’s somehow made his broad shoulders curl in until he looks tiny. Dad stands there, looking down at the boy he’s wrecked just by standing up, with a terribly sad look on his face. It unsettles Ra and he steps forwards:

 

“Dad? What’s happening?”

 

It doesn’t make any sense, unless Thor is an immense coward. But that doesn’t fit what Ra’s seen of him?

 

Mom gets up and wraps her arm around Ra, her warmth helping calm his racing mind. In front of them, Dad begins to speak, his voice soft and even.

 

“I’m not going to beat you, son.”

 

Thor just shakes, still wrapped protectively around himself.

 

“Even if you were talking shit about my son, I’d just escort you out of my home with an extra foot to the ass to help you on your way. But I don’t think you are talking shit, not seeing this. How many times have you been beaten for this before? And you still came to tell a stranger? That takes balls, son.”

 

Thor’s shaking is beginning to lessen. Dad takes loud, purposeful steps back and sits down on the couch. When he hears the springs creak, Thor relaxes slightly.

 

“Mind you, this isn’t an easy thing to accept. But I’m not going to kill the messenger.”

 

Thor finally drops his arms and takes a careful look around the room. Once he’s noted all their positions, he quickly pulls himself up. His legs wobble, as if he’s exhausted. Back on his feet, he tries to pull himself together, but can’t hide how strongly he’s been affected. His hands still tremble and his eyes still dart around the room,. He looks like the stray dogs that roam the streets, always ready to run to safety.

 

He tries to speak, tripping over the words on the first try. He pauses, lips pressed together as he gathers himself before trying again.

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

The words feel worn, like a favorite pair of jeans with thinning knees or shoes that have been worn until they fit your feet perfectly. It feels like Thor’s said them so often he knows exactly how to say them without even thinking about it. Something about it makes Dad’s face tighten, a muscle in his jaw twitching angrily. He almost says something, but stops himself before he speaks. He leans back on the couch, carefully considering his new words before he speaks this time:

 

“Thank you for coming to tell us this, Thor. And please, even though we got off on the wrong foot, know you’re welcome anytime.”

 

Thor mutters another thank you, but Ra can see he doesn’t intend to come back. That makes Ra ache quietly; he doesn’t want to lose this last connection to Dizzee, even if it is just a stranger. Mom pulls open the door and Thor pushes his way out the room and into the open air of the hallway as soon as he can. Ra follows him, leaving his parents behind to talk. He can hear mom’s tremulous voice fading as he trails Thor down the stairs:

 

“Winston, do you think Marcus really was…?”

 

Thor is already heading out the door, eager to escape the suddenly suffocating house. Ra has to lunge forwards and grab the back of his jacket—an unbearably familiar motion to use with someone he barely knows—to get his attention. Thor jumps at the contact and Ra instantly feels guilty, but at least he stops. He stands on the on the step, shoulders hunched like a sleeping bear, watching Ra out of the corner of his eye. He almost looks afraid of Ra and that doesn’t make sense either; Ra knows he’s not the most intimidating person out there.

 

“Thor, I know you don’t have any reason to trust us, but please...”

 

What does he say? I don’t even know you and don’t really care to know you but Dizzee loved you so there must be something worth knowing?

 

“Don’t disappear too, okay?”

 

Thor huffs out a halfway laugh, as if it was knocked out of him.  Suddenly Ra notices the yawning darkness in his eyes, the look of someone who’s teetering on the edge of a building and doesn't really care if they fall or not. It makes his heart clench with fear and he takes a desperate step forwards.

 

“Thor—”

 

Thor jumps back, skitters like a spooked horse. He puts his hands up and laughs uncomfortably.

 

“Alright, alright. I won’t.”

 

He turns and walks away as quickly as he can without running, leaving Ra on the doorstep. He stares into the dark long after Thor is gone, a new wave of loss hitting him. When he tries to move it feels mechanical, as if it’s not really him moving. He feels like he’s been replaced by an android that can do all of his basic functions but is numb and cold inside. He fiddles with the pencil in his pocket, trying to ignore the new feeling, and returns to the warmth and light of the house. The door creaks like a wailing spirit as he slowly pulls it shut behind him.


	2. survivor's guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a while since this has updated, I'm sorry. I have big chunks of this story written out but for some reason I really struggle with connecting them. But anyways, here's a new chapter!
> 
> tw: general dark talk with discussions of death, vaugly suicidal thoughts, struggling with mental health, slight self harm in the form of not eating/sleeping as much as one should

\------

Ra is doing his best to keep going. His grades have dropped but he should be able to pass his classes nonetheless. 

 

He's taken over most of of the hours in the salon. Mom isn't doing well. She stays in bed most of the time. Sometimes she stumbles into the kitchen to help him do the dishes, but she's too exhausted to do much more than that.

 

Dad is the opposite. He rarely sleeps, and spends most of his time out of the house. He's visiting Boo as often as possible, trying to make up for Mom’s absence.

 

Ra throws himself into his work, trying to ignore his grief.

 

The phone rings and rings and he never answers. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. His father picks it up once, says it’s Tanya. She’s worried about him. Ra still doesn’t answer.

 

One day the doorbell rings and he trudges over to answer.

 

“The salon is open---”

 

It’s Tanya. She’s more beautiful than he remembers, even with her face screwed up with worry. Ra freezes, the guilt of ignoring her finally hitting him. It feels like a punch in the stomach and he backs away. She covers the space opening up between them in a stride and throws herself into his arms, hands coming up to cup his face. She looks at him with her star studded eyes, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the frown lines forming around his mouth.

 

“Ra, what’s going on?”

 

He can’t hold his weight up anymore and he melts into her, finally letting all the feeling he’s been suppressing crash into him. There’s tears rolling down his face and he doesn’t bother stopping them; he knows he’s safe with Tanya. He sobs into her chest and manages to gasp out:

 

“Dizz is dead.”

 

She breathes in, deep, as if she’s trying very hard to keep control of herself. When she mutters a “sorry” it doesn’t feel fake: she knew and liked Dizzee. She’ll miss and mourn him, not just mourn the pain his death has caused Ra. Knowing she’s feeling the same pain as he is, even to a lesser degree, lets him break down.

 

She shushes him as he hiccups, carefully walking him into the kitchen. She helps him into one of the scratched up chairs, making sure he’s situated before turning to the stove and starting the kettle. Ra doesn't try to stop his breakdown once she’s gone, just buries his face in his hands and cries.

 

As they wait for the kettle to whistle, Tanya returns to him. She pulls up a chair, sitting as close to him as possible. She wraps an arm around him and he leans into her side, crumpling in on himself until he’s curled into a ball. He fits perfectly into the curve of her side and she gently strokes his back.

 

“Ra, how long has it been since you rested?”

 

He sniffles and mumbles, muffled by the fabric of her sweater. She weaves a hand through the tangle of their bodies until she can hold his hand. She interlaces their fingers and squeezes, the gentle pressure a comforting reminder that she’s here with him. He’s not alone.

 

“I slept a little yesterday.”

 

She’s not impressed by that.

 

“I didn’t say sleep, I said rest. How long has it been since you really rested? Sat down and just let yourself stop thinking and working for a while?”

 

He laughs at that, a bitter noise that doesn’t seem like it could have come from him.

 

“I can’t do that. If I stop, I’ll have to think about him.”

 

She sighs, punctuated by the whistle of the kettle, and squeezes his hand tighter. She gently lets go and disappears for a moment, quickly reappearing with a steaming cup of tea. He drags his heavy body up so that he can take it from her. He wraps his hands around the warm ceramic, closing his eyes. He lets the heat distract him from his racing thoughts and wet eyes.

 

Tanya wraps herself around him again, like a living, brightly colored, loving blanket. She strokes the side of his face softly, whispering:

 

“Ra, you can’t work yourself to death trying to avoid your grief. You have to let it hit you so you process it, or you’ll never be able to move on.”

 

That brings a fresh wave of tears that he sobs through:

 

“How am I supposed to move on? He just wanted to make the world more beautiful, and they killed him for it! Now I’ll never see him again!”

 

Her voice cracks when she tries to speak, and turns to look at her. Tears are spilling out of her eyes, smudging her makeup and making her eyes shine even brighter. Her beautiful face is wrinkled with pain, but she’s still as strong as ever. He wishes he could be like her. He wishes he was trying to get through this instead of letting it drag him down and drown him. But it’s all too much: his brothers are gone and they’ve left his parents shattered. Even Shao is gone, leaving him no one to go to for help.

 

Except for her. She’d come looking for him, even after he’d shunned her. It knocks the breath out of him, realizing how much she cares for him.

 

She manages to speak clearly on her third try:

 

“It’s terrible, Ra. But that doesn’t mean you have to die too! You are so much more than this. You have so much beauty in your future and I don’t want you to never see it.” 

 

He shrieks then, anger and pain that he can’t find words for forcing their way out. She says he has a future but he can’t see it! How can he ever move on? How can he ever be happy without thinking how Dizz never got to be?

 

She pulls him closer and hushes him, rocking him like a child. He clamps down another scream and tries to breathe.

 

“I know you can’t feel that or see that right now, Ra. But you will be happy in the future. You deserve to be happy.”

 

“Why?”

 

“What do you mean, why?”

 

“Dizz is dead and most of Boo’s life is ruined. Why do I deserve to happy and they don’t?”

 

She presses a kiss to his forehead, an unbearable sadness in her eyes.

 

“Oh, Ra. What happened to them isn’t fair, but that doesn’t mean you should punish yourself.”

 

“I’m not punishing myself!”

 

“No, you’re just overworking yourself and refusing to rest.”

 

He opens his mouth to speak, but stumbles to a stop. He wasn’t trying to punish himself, but she’s right. He hadn’t even realized it, but there’s no other explanation. He knows he needs to rest, he knows he needs to eat, but he can’t bring himself to.

 

He can’t find the words to explain what he’s feeling, but he thinks Tanya might already understand.

 

“I’m sorry, Tanya. For ignoring you and just for...being like this. I didn’t realize it was getting so bad.”

 

“It’s okay, Ra. Grief is a hard thing to deal with. But you can’t let it spiral again, okay? You’ve got to talk to people. Your mom, your dad, me, anyone you can. I can’t get you through this, you have to take the steps to get better.”

 

It sounds exhausting and daunting, but Ra isn’t going to give up yet.

 

“Yeah. I will. And thank you, Tanya.”

 

She smiles, as bright as the sun.

 

“You’re welcome. For now, let’s just get you on the couch with your tea so you can relax. You said you were going to show me Star Wars, can we watch that now?”

 

“Yeah! I just got a copy, it’s on top of the tv. I kept meaning to watch it, but it just didn’t seem interesting anymore.”

 

“Well, I haven’t seen it yet, and I want to know what you see in it.”

 

Ra lets her tug him up and they settle on the couch. She gets the movie going and he cuddles into her as the theme begins blasting. He feels lazy and warm, and for a moment he forgets how much he misses his brother.

\--------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please no star wars nerds roast me over the fact that star wars wouldn't be out on vcr by then I don't know and I don't care enough to find out
> 
> also I'm writing this with Ra having symptoms of being depressed. Things like losing interest in what used to be your favorite stuff, and self harm by purposely not eating/sleeping can be serious cause for concern and you should get help, even if that's just telling someone you trust about it!


	3. healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: discussions of coming out, homophobia, death

\------  
Ra is doing a lot better lately. He still does his schoolwork and helps out in the salon, but he’s learned how to recognize when he’s doing too much and needs to rest. Tanya visits more often and they even go out sometimes, to see a movie or go dancing. And Ra still hurts all the damn time, still has to stop and sob his guts out every once in a while, but he’s starting to feel something other than the grief now.

It’s small things, like walking into the kitchen on a sunlit morning, or watching a particularly fat pigeon wander down the sidewalk outside his window. But he’ll take those little bits of happiness. They feel like a victory, after feeling nothing for the past couple months. He’s even starting to believe that someday, he’ll feel normal again. The grief of his lost brother will never leave him, but it won’t consume him either. He has a future, and he wants to live it.

It’ll take a lot of work though. Some days it’s still a struggle, the pain and the pointlessness threatening to drag him back into despair. But he’s fighting it, and he’s beginning to feel like he’s winning. A few weeks ago he would have told you that he didn’t think he’d even feel good again, but now he can feel genuine happiness beginning to creep back into his life.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, sunlight spilling in the small window, sorting his newest comics. Tanya and he had gone to the comic store yesterday; he’s finally getting back to keeping his collection. He’d missed a hefty amount of issues, but he’ll survive. He’s fallen into the comforting rhythm of sorting the issues into piles and sliding them into sleeves when a knock at the door startles him out of it.

He sighs, setting his unfinished pile down, and goes to open the door. Of all the people who could be knocking---a confused customer, tanya, his parents having forgotten their keys----he doesn’t expect it to be Thor. The man had seemed so reluctant to come back when they last spoke, Ra hadn’t really expected to ever seem him again. He’d desperately hoped that he would: he’d like to get to know Dizzee’s boyfriend, even if it’s too late to tell his brother that he loves him, no matter who he dates.

Thor looks a little better than the last time Ra saw him, though there are still bags under his eyes and sadness clinging to him. But he no longer looks like a man who’s lost his reason to live, and that comforts Ra greatly. He had honestly been concerned that if he did see Thor again, it might be because he turned up dead. He doesn’t know if that was an accurate impression, or if he’s just paranoid because that’s what happened with Dizzee.

Ra has hesitated far too long, but Thor is still silent and motionless, other than his fingers nervously fiddling with a small book in his hands. Ra finally gets over his shock and breaks the silence:

“Do you want to come in?”

Thor startles slightly, as if he had forgotten what he was doing, but smiles. 

“Yes, thank you.”

Ra steps aside so Thor can enter and shuts the door behind him. Thor takes a seat at the the table and Ra hurriedly clears the comics off. Thor sets the book he’s holding down on the open space, but keeps one hand on it as if he’s afraid to let go. Ra finishes putting the comics away and grasps at something to say.

“Would you like a drink?”

He winces at himself; couldn’t he come with something better than mundane pleasantries? Oh well, it’s not like Thor’s contributing much to the conversation himself.

“I’ll take some water, thank you.”

Ra takes the time he spends getting a glass of water to gather his thoughts, and feels much calmer when he returns to the table. Thor is intimidating because Ra is half convinced he’ll disappear again if he says something wrong. But there’s nothing Ra can really do to stop him if he decides to do that, so why worry about it? So Ra hands him the glass of water, sits down, and speaks completely honestly:

“Thanking you for coming back, Thor. I didn’t think you would, but I appreciate it. I probably remind you of him, and that’s probably tough for you...”

Thor smiles, the misery caked onto him beginning to crack slightly. He looks legitimately happy to be here, talking to Ra.

“You do remind me of him, but that’s not a bad thing. I find it comforting, to know I have someone I can talk to about him.”

Ra sighs.

“I know what you mean. Talking about it makes it hurt more, so my parents avoid the subject as much as possible. But I think we need to talk about him, to feel better, and to remember him.”

Thor grins wider, his eyes going teary.

“Exactly. As sad as remembering him makes me, it also makes me so happy. And I never want to forget how happy he made me just because it hurts to remember. Thats why, um, I brought this.”

He pushes the book towards Ra, slowly, hesitantly. Ra can see the name “Dizzee” scratched into the leather cover.

“It was his sketchbook. The one he was working in when we went bombing for the last time. And he did some pieces in it that I think you guys deserve to have.”

Thor flips it open, to a page marked by a piece of string. Ra’s own face is staring out at him; a mic held to his mouth and a grin on his face. Dizzee’s trademark weirdness and color swirl out around him, making almost a halo around him. Dizzee must have drawn it after a performance, when Ra’s face was still fresh in his mind.

Seeing it knocks the air out of Ra’s lungs. It’s beautiful, and he’s endlessly thankful Thor brought it to him, but it also feels like it’s tearing his heart out of his chest. He watches his own hands shake as he reaches out to take the book from Thor. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. He just flips through the sketchbook, looking at how Dizzee had drawn Zeke, Boo, Shao…

The last page with art on it is obviously not part of the sketchbook; the paper is too large to fit properly and has a torn, tattered edge. It’s a drawing of Dizzee, eyes closed, half asleep. His face soft, relaxed, in a way that Ra rarely saw. Ra runs his fingers over the pencil, trying to make sense of it. Thor speaks up, voice soft and affectionate.

“I drew it.”

Ra looks up, surprised.

“I want you to have it.”

Ra can feel his forehead crease, the unasked question clear on his face: why?

Thor smiles at him, something so sweet and broken that it makes Ra ache.

“He never got to share that part of his life with you. He never got to share us with you. I want you to have some part of us, even if you were never formally told.”

That’s what breaks the last barrier and Ra drops his face into his hands, muttering through the grief choking him:

“Thank you, Thor. It means so much to me because… ” 

Dizzee watches Thor hesitate for a moment before reaching out to pat his shoulder, hesitantly but wholeheartedly attempting to comfort him. That’s what makes Ra feel safe enough to say what’s been weighing on him, ever since Thor said he was Dizzee’s boyfriend.

“I feel like I failed him, like he didn’t tell me because he didn’t feel safe around me. I can’t stand the thought that Dizzee might have thought I wouldn’t love him if he told me.”

Thor sighs, head bowed, his greasy, unkempt hair hiding his face as he figures out to respond to that. Ra has a feeling they’re baring parts of themselves to each other right now that they haven’t shown anyone else. Finally, Thor responds:

“Ra, I can’t tell you that he wasn’t afraid of telling you. He was, there’s no escaping that. But that isn’t unusual, he knew how my family reacted, he knew how the world reacted to us. You could have been the most supportive family in the world and I think he still would have been afraid. But I also know that he knew that you loved him. He talked about you guys a lot, and even though he was scared to tell you, I never got the feeling that he expected you to stop loving him. Sometimes, you don’t tell someone just because you don’t want to, not because you’re afraid they’ll react badly.”

Ra sniffles, feeling drained but less weighed down by finally telling someone about that fear. And Thor is reassuring, even if he can’t make the fear go away completely. Ra doesn’t know if he’ll ever be sure what Dizzee was thinking, but Thor has made that uncertainty a little less hard to carry.

“Thank you, Thor.”

Thor smiles, an expression that Ra hasn’t seen on his face since Dizzee was alive.

“Thank you, Ra. I’ve been in a really bad place, and you helped me get through it. Just by...telling me you wanted me to stick around. It doesn’t seem like much, but it really did help.”

Ra begins to smile through the tears, a new sort of hope rising in his stomach.

“That mean you’re going to start coming around more often?”

Thor looks pleasantly surprised and Ra just hopes desperately that he’ll say yes.

“If you want me to, I will.”

Ra grins and nods eagerly.

“I do. I think we could be good friends, Thor.”

Thor beams, his joy almost as warm as the sunlight. Ra basks in the new relationship they’re slowly building. He never would have expected to want to be friends with Thor so much, but they’re being truthful with each other in a way that makes him think this’ll work out well. He looks forwards to getting to know Thor better, and he knows it’s what Dizzee would have wanted. Thor must feel the same because he finally speaks:

“That sounds good, Ra.”

\-------


	4. reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: mentions of death and violence, f slur, smoking
> 
> Annie's dead this chapter!!!!!

\----------

 

The temple door shrieks on it’s hinges as Thor pushes it open. Ra feels the noise spark through all his nerves, setting him on edge, and gets the strange urge to reach for Thor’s hand.  He pushes it down and carefully inches inside. He has to go first; Shao’s much more likely to shoot Thor than him. He flinches at the memory of a bullet zinging off the wall above his head the last time he was here, before they sought out the Zulus. He prays Shao isn’t feeling violent today. 

 

That is, if he’s even here. It’s been months since Zeke and Shao’s fight and Ra hasn’t spoken to him since. He’s seen the newspaper articles: Annie found dead, a bloody war on the streets as her mob falls into a power struggle. It’s pictures of dead bodies on the front page that finally motivate him to search Shao out. He tries not to be angry at Shao for abandoning them, but it’s hard. All his other brothers were taken from him, he would have given anything to have Shao there to help him through his grief. He shakes himself; he’s made it through on his own, no point worrying about it now.

 

The first thing that hits him is the smell. He gags, dragging his shirt collar up to cover his nose, hoping it’ll lessen his exposure to the stench. Outside, he can hear Thor coughing. It’s unmistakably the smell of something rotting, and for a terrifying moment Ra thinks he’s going to walk in on dead bodies. That would make sense, explain the silence, if Shao was shot and left here to rot---

 

The crack of a bone under his sneaker snaps him out of his racing thoughts. He looks down to discover he’s walked into a pile of trash. A chicken leg, half eaten and covered in mold, lies crushed under his foot. He gags again, but rotting food is much better than rotting bodies.

 

The temple was never the cleanest place, but it’s turned into a dump. The entryway is littered in food, all at different stages of decomposition. Ra takes in the styrofoam takeout containers carpeting the ground and wonders how long it’s been here for. He has a bad feeling it’d match the amount of time since Zeke and Shao’s fight.

 

Something rustles behind him and Ra jumps, spins around. He notices the pair of couches, covered in blankets and pillows, for the first time. He stares in horror at the man rising from one of them. His rich clothing is dirty and ripped in places, but the bright colors still shine through. Gold chains gleam weakly around his neck. He huffs out a heavy breath, like an angry dragon awoken from its slumber.

 

Unmistakably, this is Cadillac. His beard is long and wild and he looks like he’s been sleeping on the streets for weeks, but he’s no less intimidating.

 

Ra backs up towards the door, legs shaking, and wonders if he wants to call for Thor. He doubts Thor can do anything, and bringing him into Cadillac’s line of fire will probably get them both killed. Even if he selfishly decided to, his throat seizes up and he can’t make more noise than a slight whine.

 

Cadillac hisses another breath out over his lips, as if he’s forgotten he doesn’t have any smoke to blow and but still does the motion out of habit. Ra wishes he could get his legs to work so he could at least try to escape. Cadillac rolls his shoulders, one of them popping and making Ra flinch, and snarls: 

 

“Shao-lin Fan~faggot, one of your little dancers is here.”

 

Ra twitches at the slur, a new found disgust he’s learned from Thor. But his anger is quickly replaced by surprise as Shao speaks. 

 

“What?”

 

His speech is slow and slurred, as if he’d just woken up, but still unmistakable him. It feels like it’s been forever since Ra has heard his voice. He only says one word, but it instantly brings a smile to Ra’s face.

 

“Shao! You’re okay!”

 

The pile of blankets on the second couch shifts and Shao begins to emerge, slowly pushing the fabric aside like a spring flower pushing through snow. He looks at Ra with disbelief, as he thinks he might still be dreaming.

 

“I didn’t know if you were okay, we haven’t heard anything from you since you and Zeke...”

 

Shao barks out a harsh, pained laugh and throws off the blankets. Ra jumps at the sudden movement but doesn’t back up when Shao gets up in his face. Cadillac cackles in the background, beginning a predatory circle around the pair. Ra feels like he’s facing down a lion and the vultures are circling.

 

Shao screams, so sudden and sharp it’s like the crack of a whip:

 

“Fuck Zeke! Fuck you! Fuck all of y’all! You left me when I needed you the most!”

 

Hearing an almost exact copy of his own abandonment thrown back at him feels like a slap in the face. He can’t tell if he wants to curl into himself or lash out.

 

Cadillac glides in, head tilting like a bird watching its prey, and jeers:

 

“All your pretty words about family and y’all left Shao to get his hands dirty. But don’t worry, I took care of Annie for him. Maybe you should be thanking me, huh?”

 

Ra doesn’t understand and he’s not sure he wants to, not with all the blood and death he can hear hidden behind those words.  And Shao just stares, eyes hateful and face stony. Cadillac still circles and circles, a panther on the prowl. It’s too much to deal with and Ra feels his breathing speed up, his heart beginning to race. He needs a way out---

 

Shao suddenly slumps, the stone facade crumbling to show the exhaustion beneath. He holds a hand towards Cadillac, the fingers loosely curled, and mutters:

 

“Stop, man.”

 

Cadillac senses the mood has changed, sees Ra’s fear drain away, and he obviously doesn’t like having his fun ruined. He snarls:

 

“Stop? What do you mean, stop?”

 

Shao waves the outstretched hand at him, like he’s lazily batting at a fly, and presses to the other one to his forehead. He looks like he’s fighting a headache, and his face is a mess of misery and exhaustion. He takes a couple steps back and collapses onto the couch, covering his face with his hand. When he speaks, it’s muffled but still understandable:

 

“Stop everything. Stop your strutting and your snarling and just shut up. Leave Ra the fuck alone.”

 

That only makes Cadillac angrier and he yells, spit flying:

 

“You gonna let this punk walk away? After he fucked your life up?”

 

Shao laughs, bitter and condescending, and stares at Cadillac through a crack in his fingers.

 

“The only one who fucked my life up was Annie and myself. Far as I can see, Ra ain’t either of those people. So leave him the fuck alone.”

 

Cadillac storms off, kicking up the piles of trash and increasing the stench in the room. Ra feels the last of his fear leave him and he sighs in relief. When he speaks, his voice shakes slightly.

 

“Thanks, man.”

 

Shao lets his hands drop away from his face, but his eyes close. He’s sprawled lifelessly across the couch like a puppet with its strings cut. When he smiles, that too is weak and sad.

 

“You’re welcome, sun god.”

 

Then the silence returns again, painfully quiet in comparison to the shouting matches of the past few minutes. Ra shuffles nervously, trash crunching under his shoes, but can’t think of anything to say.

 

Shao speaks again, and now he’s staring at Ra, his eyes frighteningly intense. There’s something raw and vulnerable in his voice and it sets Ra on edge.

 

“You know I’d never let Cadillac hurt you, right? Not even now.”

 

Ra laughs nervously and before he can stop them, the words slip out:

 

“Not really, no. I kinda thought...”

 

He trails off and wilts, taking in the pain that’s spreading across Shao’s face. The DJ sits up suddenly, something sharp and mean in his eyes.

 

“You thought I was gonna sic him on you? Let him gut you or put a bullet in your head? Do you really think of me that badly?”

 

Ra is left speechless by the sheer rage in those words, and he can feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

 

Before they can fall, the angry energy leaves Shao’s body and he slumps back down. His mouth twists and there’s regret pooling in his eyes.

 

“Ra, I’m sorry man. I’m sorry that I said that. I’m sorry that I’m so damn angry and broken. I’m sorry I left you.”

 

Ra smiles and it hurts, but in a good way. It hurts like an injury healing. It hurts like they’re finally telling the truth and that maybe, from now on, they can fix things.

 

“It’s okay, Shao.”

 

He means it. He can forgive Shao, if Shao can forgive him. And maybe they can help each other get better.

 

Abruptly, he remembers Thor, waiting outside. Ra wonders if he heard the raised voices and was worrying.

 

“I had someone to help me, Shao. He’s waiting outside, I can bring him in, if you want.”

 

Shao nods, looking better than he had before. There’s a little bit of hope in him now, and it helps distract from the dark circles and unshaven cheeks.

 

Ra wades over to the door and waves Thor inside. He does look worried, but since Ra is calm, he doesn’t ask what happened. He wrinkles his nose at the mess on the floor and Ra shoots him a sympathetic look.

 

Shao’s voice rings through the temple, making both of them jump.

 

“Hey, look. It’s Dizzee’s white boy. How you doing, Thor?”

 

Ra didn’t know they knew each other, but Thor smiles brightly at Shao.

 

“Not great, Shao. But from the looks of it you aren’t exactly living your best life ethier.”

 

Ra winces, worried that it’ll set Shao off, but Shao just laughs and asks:

 

“You want a smoke?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

Thor strides over to the couch and, to Ra’s surprise, sits down right next to Shao. Shao doesn’t complain, just digs around on the table for a matchbook.

 

Ra shakes his head in disbelief and walks over to join them.

 

“So, you two know each other?”

 

Shao strikes a match and lights a cigarette, handing it off to Thor before shrugging and responding:

 

“Kinda. Mostly through Dizzee’s alien brotherhood.”

 

Ra frowns; Dizzee has spoken about his trademark aliens often enough, but he still doesn’t understand what that means. Thor grins at him through a cloud of smoke, understanding his confusion, and translates:

 

“He means the gay shit, Ra.”

 

Ra does his best not to be taken aback. He’s gotten more used to that side of Dizzee since becoming friends with Thor, but somehow he hadn’t expected that to be what they meant. Especially since he ever would have thought Shao would share that with Dizzee.

 

So of course, Ra’s mouth moves quicker than his mental filter and he blurts out:

 

“So does that mean you’re um…”

 

Thor chokes on his inhale of smoke and coughs loudly while Shao groans. Ra groans too, internally; of all the things to ask Shao, who never wants to share things about himself ever! Ra waits for Shao to snap at him, but instead he just flops back down on the couch and whines:

 

“Man, I don’t know what’s going on with me. If I am an alien, then I don’t know what kind I am.”

 

Thor, having caught his breath, laughs and hands him the cigarette, which he takes gratefully.

 

“Shao, that’s the best part of being an alien. You don’t have to know what you are. Everything goes with the free people.”

 

Shao hums, huffing out a cloud of smoke before smirking up at Thor, voice going mischievous:

 

“Thor my man, I imagine you’d be the one to know. You’ve got much more experience than I do.”

 

Thor smiles, something both happy and sad in the expression, and runs a hand along Shao’s leather coated shoulder. 

 

“You’d be right, Shao. I’m a long time alien, here to help y’all find the Phoenix inside.”

 

Ra hunches his shoulders and tucks his hands into his pockets, feeling extremely out of his depth. Thor looks back up from Shao---who’s closed his eyes sleepily as he smokes--- and pats the little bit of empty space left on the couch next to him.

 

“Join us, Ra? ”

 

Ra hesitates, eyes flicking to Shao to see his reaction, but he doesn’t move or open his eyes, so Ra picks his way through the trash to the couch. He sits carefully down next to Thor, leaning against the dirty velveted armrest of the old couch. They sit in a lazy silence, Thor’s hand still running slow circles over Shao’s shoulder as he blows smoke in a gently curling cloud that rises to the ceiling. Ra feels a strange sense of peace settle over them; nothing is the same anymore, but at least now he doesn’t feel so alone.

 

\----------

**Author's Note:**

> I know we like to imagine winston would be okay with Dizzee's sexuality, but I don't think he'd be okay with it right away. And he certinatly wouldn't belive thor, a total stranger, right away.
> 
> On thor's breakdown: I do have PTSD but I have not been abused, so I'm mostly working off my own experiences with breakdowns. If I've written it badly, feel free to let me know and I'll do my best to fix it.


End file.
